Everyday Kinks
by Crimson1
Summary: Len ponders loneliness watching his sister get closer to Cisco, only to receive company and an offer from The Flash he never expected. Or, Barry gives Len a backrub after a mission.


Len stared at the way Lisa's smile curved upward without any twist or edge—sweet, the way her eyes lingered once Cisco glanced away. The kid couldn't meet her gaze for long without getting flustered, not when she smiled at him like that, and the smile always turned sweeter once he was no longer looking.

Len couldn't make out the title of the book Cisco was reading, explaining things to Lisa out of it now that she had joined him. The charged air between them was different than Len remembered. She'd rolled a chair over to Cisco and sat, inquiring about his book, without prompting any harsh or skeptical looks from him. He accepted her presence, welcomed it, welcomed her, almost as easily as he would have any of his friends.

Lisa had told Len how Cisco hadn't just saved her, but also comforted her when their father's name came up. She'd told the kid—told most of Team Flash—the kind of man their father really was. Len didn't know how he felt about that, his enemies knowing his greatest weaknesses—Lisa, his past, his many, many scars, inside and out. But he didn't have to worry about Cisco using that knowledge against Lisa. These people weren't like that. They weren't like everyone else Len had had in his life—all four decades of it.

He sighed, tearing his eyes from the building intimacy between Cisco and his sister. He'd teased her about kissing him when she first lured him with her blond wig and tempting curves. Following through with the honey pot was never a mandate, and usually something that turned Len's stomach when it came to his sister. 'He was too cute to resist' she'd said.

But that was just kissing. Just passion. This was something else.

The thought of that stung as much as Len's injured shoulder did, as he turned from the scene through the glass in the other room and sat in the discarded wheelchair no one had bothered to put away. He tried to imagine Barry confined to the thing for a good week or more after what Zoom did to him.

Len had been locked up tight as ever in Iron Heights when it happened, only hearing updates on the news—that The Flash hadn't been seen again after his brutal beating. It had grated on Len, made him count the seconds until the next news broadcast, made him fidget with his wrists, tap out rhythms on every available surface, drawing too much attention to himself.

Until he heard. Until he saw. The Flash—back in action. Then he was able to breathe again. Relax. Berate himself for getting so attached.

Now here he was, not many weeks later, caught up in some whirlwind scheme with Team Flash and friends. Len was older than most involved, didn't have any powers, didn't heal at faster speeds. His banged up shoulder was proof of that. He'd dislocated it on their first run together as an attempted team, needing Mick to reset it after the fight. He was too old for this, to change his stripes and throw himself head first into trying to save the world.

Like a nervous tick, he rubbed his shoulder again. It didn't help. The angle wasn't right, not from his own hands. He should be resting, Caitlin had said, but he didn't want to leave the labs yet, not when Lisa still had reason to stay. Being out of her line of sight had been more taxing than ever after their father's death. He didn't want to be alone now that he was out of prison. So it seemed highly unfair that Lisa, on the other side of the glass forming a real connection with someone for the first time in maybe her entire life—other than with her pathetic brother—made him feel more alone than ever.

"Need a hand?"

Len glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow in question. "Nothing time won't heal, kid."

Barry grinned at the pun as he walked further into the room—everything was about time for Leonard Snart, but more than ever now that actual time travel and alternate realities were involved. "You're allowed to accept my help, remember? We're a team. Did Caitlin—"

"Looked. Assessed. Dismissed. Nothing serious."

"In that case…I've been told I give a mean backrub." Barry grinned and held up both hands, with those long, slender fingers.

Len huffed a laugh as he turned forward, letting his own hand fall back to his lap. "What would Green Arrow say?" he joked, but tensed at the first touch of warm hands—he'd thought Barry was joking.

"Oliver is a terrible example. Of…pretty much everything," Barry laughed, sinking strong digits into Len's muscles.

Part of Len instinctually wanted to shrug him off; he didn't care for physical touch, from anyone, but the warmth, the firm, tender contact carrying nothing but…care, forced him to relax. Barry's fingers pressed deep, careful around the curve of his left shoulder where it most ached.

"That's better. Relax. I know what I'm doing. Do you know how many times Joe's come home with a dislocated shoulder being a cop?"

Len opened his mouth to comment but had to bite back a moan as Barry worked over the curve of his shoulder and pressed into his collarbone. It hurt, but in that painful, beautiful way that told him he needed it.

"I don't know how Oliver or you or…anyone without my healing abilities manages. It sucked being laid up a whole week without my speed, barely even able to walk."

"Most people…would have died or ended up in this chair for life," Len managed.

"But that's what I mean. What I go through is nothing compared to what someone normal would face if they dealt with what I do. And you and Oliver, so many others on the team, they do—they don't have any powers to back them up. The least I can do is offer a shoulder rub."

Len almost chuckled, but caught himself, recognizing how easily that too could become a moan. Barry pressed deeper, harder, tugging down Len's navy blue Henley slightly as he moved forward down his chest beyond his collarbone.

"Huh, I never noticed your tattoos before."

"Never seen me without my…shirt before."

"Uh, no. You haven't seen me without my shirt before either. I don't think."

"Suggesting a change to that arrangement?"

"What?" Barry stopped, hands flat against Len's skin but not moving.

Len didn't want the contact to be over just yet, but there he'd gone and opened his big mouth.

Amazingly, Barry started up again, laughing as he did so, strong as ever in the firm presses of his fingers. "Always gotta have the last word, don't you?"

Len smiled, glad the kid couldn't see his expression, especially with the way his eyes rolled back into his head when Barry walked his fingers like doing the itsy bitsy spider up his neck—and damn, why did that feel so good? "What can I…say," Len grunted, feigning that it was pain more than pleasure, "you make it so easy, Scarlet."

"Oh, so I should go tougher on you?"

Len tensed, sensing that Barry was about to press non-too gently, but the kid just laughed again.

"Kidding. I'm not that mean. I'll save the backstabbing for you." He continued firm but gentle in his touches. "Only please don't. It would be way uncool of you to betray us after I gave you a backrub."

This time, Len couldn't suppress a rumbling chuckle. He could tell be the way Barry groaned afterward that he hadn't meant to say 'uncool'.

Little by little though, Len's shoulder started to feel better, and he melted into the wheelchair beneath Barry's attentive hands.

"I know this might be sacrilege to say, but…you probably wanna put some heat on this tonight. I have one of those rice things somewhere. You know, that you can heat in the microwave?"

"S'pose you're right. Though heat and cold can work wonders together," Len snarked.

"So I've been told. Now I just need you both to work well with others."

"Isn't that what we're doing?"

"Yeah. And it's not so bad, right? Look at all these perks," Barry snickered, doing that spider walk down Len's shoulder blade.

Finally, a true moan ripped free, Len couldn't help it, though he managed to tone it down from how loud it wanted to be.

Barry paused, just for a moment, his hands stuttering at the sound. He worked Len's shoulder a bit more in silence then patted him gently with a final, firm squeeze as he peered around the wheelchair. His smile was sweet, not teasing, like Lisa's had been with Cisco—maybe still was with Cisco in the other room. Len would swear a blush colored Barry's cheeks.

"Thanks," he said, eyeing Barry as he moved around the chair to stand in front of him.

"Sure. Like I said, we're a team now."

"So you'd do that for anyone on the team?"

"Uhh…" Barry scratched the back of his neck—the kid had the most obvious tells. It warmed Len's chest almost as much as the kid's hands had warmed his skin. "I guess you're just special, being my nemesis and all. Keep your enemies closer and all that? You know, in case you do decide to betray us. Or maybe realize I'm not entertaining enough to keep you interested."

"Never a threat of that, kid." Len eyed Barry with a quick flick down his lean body and back up to his hazel eyes. Definitely a blush in those cheeks. "Where did you say this heating pad was?"

"Oh," Barry pulled his eyes away from Len's with seeming difficulty and stood up straighter. "Uhh…"

"Why don't you help me look for it? Keep me company. In case I have any dastardly plans you need to foil."

Barry chuckled again, scratched his neck—again. "Sure. I think I left it in the lounge. Spent a lot of time on that couch when I couldn't walk."

"Lead the way," Len gestured Barry ahead of him as he rose from the wheelchair.

If Len followed Barry's retreating movements with his eyes a little more closely than he would have if anyone was around to catch him, well, that was just his prerogative as a supervillain.

* * *

THE END


End file.
